


Roman Holiday

by My_Foolish_Heart



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Art History, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Italy, Love, M/M, Renaissance Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Foolish_Heart/pseuds/My_Foolish_Heart
Summary: Paris, 1997 – His words still haunt my ears as if they were spoken only yesterday, as if they were music composed by Apollo himself. I don't believe I will ever hear something as beautiful as I did that summer. The way he whispered my words made me believe in every love song ever sung.____________________This story is inspired by Call Me By Your Name, but also by classical authors. I just write to relieve some stress and if people like it then that's a nice bonus.
Kudos: 3





	Roman Holiday

Paris, 1997 – His words still haunt my ears as if they were spoken only yesterday, as if they were music composed by Apollo himself. I don't believe I will ever hear something as beautiful as I did that summer. The way he whispered my words made me believe in every love song ever sung.

It's hard to remember that summer, not because of the faulting of my memory but because of the emotions it brings. Thinking about him is enough to make me filled with regret and sorrow.  
Sometimes I close my eyes and let my mind transport me back to 1981, when I lived in England, Bath to be more precise. It was a seemingly ordinary spring. But the truth is a lot of things happened that have impacted my life. Sometimes I regret the choices I made, but ultimately I am so very happy that I got to experience love of that magnitude. I know not everyone has that honour.  
The weather in England that spring was as typically British as you can imagine. It rained almost every single day, but at the same time the sun shone a lot and caused my skin to regain its healthy glow quite fast. I still feel the scratchy woollen jumpers, the soft sunrays warming my skin, and the occasional sound of waxwings singing in the wind. Nothing announced the rollercoaster of emotions I will experience in just a few months. I had one more semester of college left. Most of it was an internship. I was studying history at the time, my first degree. Later, there would have been lots of other degrees and diplomas to be added to that list, but at that time I felt like I was the most accomplished person in the world. Because of my passion for everything classical and classical related, I had chosen to go to Italy for my internship. Foolishly, I didn't think Italy was that big, since all I knew was Rome, Florence, Venice and Naples. I registered at the summer house of a professor from the University of Rome. I thought I would be close to everything Italy had to offer, but it turned out that was a wrong assumption. The summerhouse was still a car ride – albeit a short one – removed from the bustling centre of what once was the heart of a mighty empire. Maybe this was my first mistake, to be located in the romantic and mystical countryside instead of the more logical city.

When you would meet me, you would find me quite normal. I would consider myself to be fairly good looking although I recognise there are far more dashing men out there than me. I was looking classically British with a complexion that changed with the seasons, which was quite nice. But I always thought looked my best in the earthly tones that autumn brought with it. Scratchy woollen jumpers in beige, orange or a dark red were my go-to look. I thought it never was warm enough for a long time to really invest in enough summer clothes. I never really stood out, but that made me all the more approachable. I liked flirting with women, but never really committed to anything serious. I didn't want anything to hold me down. Certainly not when I knew I would be going to Italy in the summer. Italy changed everything, I already felt it long before I went. It was a bit of a knot in my stomach that exceeded excitement. It was as if the universe was telling me to prepare, and I was too stupid to listen to it.  
  
About those little choices that had impacted my life. One of them was not committing to anyone in particular. I had the occasional girlfriend and was always loyal to them, but the moment I was bored or didn't feel like I was in love, I told her. This direct approach had cost me a lot of potentially great friendships, but also a lot of good friends who appreciated my honesty.  
The other seemingly small event was the fact that I failed one class, which meant I had to pick up a new one. My original plan was to do an internship in Greece. My grandpa was Greek, so I had a bit of ancestry there and I could also speak the language a little bit. Greece seemed the logical choice, given all that and my passion for Antiquity. The thing is I had to pick up another course and, given my already full schedule, I didn't have much of a choice. I could choose modern history or Renaissance Art. My choice was easily made, given my disdain for the first subject. The passion with which the professor talked about Renaissance art and the complex ideas and emotions behind it really struck something inside of me. I felt like I could make a connection with an artist separated not only by space but also time. Centuries and thousands of kilometres felt like it was nothing. After only a few lessons, I felt like I just wanted to live in a Renaissance villa surrounded with a precisely manicured garden overflown with sculptures. I talked with the professor about these powerful emotions, and he recommended an internship place with one of his friends from abroad. A position I could not refuse. All these little twists of faith lead to the eventual result that I was currently packed to go away for a few months to sunny Italy.

Saying goodbye was not that hard. My parents were always very busy running the family business, and seemed to have lost interest in my life the second I chose not to go into a business major. The few close friends I had were excited for me to follow my passion, and also secretly hoped to score a cheap holiday to Italy when they were done with school.

When I arrived at the summerhouse where I was to spend the next few months, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. When I stepped out of the taxi, I was greeted by a beautiful young lady. I would later learn that she was the professor's daughter, and I thought it clever to befriend her but also keep her at a distance so my internship and my grades couldn't be put in danger. The professor and his wife were very friendly. I have rarely met an older couple still so in love as they were. When he spoke, she looked at him like he was reciting poetry. And when she talked about the most mundane things like when dinnertime was or where I could get a bike, he watched with an expression as if she declared her undying love for him over and over again.

The warmth I felt the moment I stepped into the home was world apart from the distant cold shoulder I got from my parents the few moments I saw them. Here I was greeted with two kisses on the cheek and with an ice cold glass of home made lemonade. The second I stepped out of the taxi cab, Isabella introduced herself as the lady of the house and did not stop talking until I was inside and the house tour was completed. Professor De Luca ensured me that I should be calling him Alessandro and that I could use every amenity the house provided me. I felt immediately at home, and it looked like more of a permanent move instead of an internship. When I looked at my schedule the professor provided to make sure I worked enough hours, this feeling was only confirmed. My work day starts at eight in the morning and goes on until twelve, except on Mondays when I work until four in the afternoon. The afternoons and weekends are free time, because Alessandro believes that I should take in as many real life impressions of Renaissance and Antiquity as humanly possible. He even arranged for me to have an insurance so I can take out his car for a drive to cities that were not manageable to reach on bike.  
Sometimes I think back on the beginning of that summer and everything that lead up to it, and I relish once again in the bliss of ignorance. I was so content with my life, I didn't feel the need to question it. And so I didn't. Sometimes I wish I never did.


End file.
